


Obscure Radiance

by EveCuellar



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveCuellar/pseuds/EveCuellar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Our minds sometimes see what our hearts wish were true." -Dan Brown</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Author's note: Hello guys! This is a new fan fiction I'm working on and would like to continue. Please do let me know if you like it. I'm still thinking about where I want to take this but I do have something in mind. Leave me a comment, add it to your library, follow me, I don't know! I really do want to know what YOU think about it. If it sucks, tell me it sucks. If it's great, tell me it's great! I just want your honest opinion on my writing. Oh, and if you do like it.. share it with your fellow Directioners! I'd like to get as many people as I possibly can to read my story. If you could share my work, I'd be ETERNALLY grateful. I've tried writing other stories, but they usually don't get the attention I'd like them to and so I just completely drop them. I wouldn't like to do the same with this one. I've got a feeling.. that this one will be good. Anyway, I hope that I can get suspense into this and have you all at the edge of your seats. c: Now, read, read, read!

\- - -

    Darkness. It was all I knew. All I'd ever known. Earth; a planet known for its vast beauty, and abundant life. This is where I reside. Where I carry on my life- just like those, humans. The two legged creatures that seem to thrive off of other's defeat. I'm not like them, no. But I'm forced to live here, I'm forced to share their world. And all because I need them. Wether I live, or perish.. depends on them.

It's mid November, and the temperature is dropping. The leaves abandon the safety of the trees for the floor. They're no longer a deep green, but shades of pink, orange and violet. My favorite time of year. Days grow shorter, and darkness overpowers. The creatures of the dark emerge from their hibernating states, and do what they've waited so long for; feed.

"Harry!" an excited voice broke into my thoughts.

I looked up from a seemingly never ending pile of papers in need of organization to find Jerry, the mail delivery boy. I was only three years his elder, and yet he still managed to keep his childish mind.

Letting out a deep breath, I set my pen down, sure he was here to pester me again. "What now?"

"What's new?" He asked, his thin lips forming into a wide smile. He never seemed to find the annoyance in my tone of voice, and if he did.. my, what hell of a good skill he had to shrug it off.

"Nothing much." I replied boldly, not interested in anything he might ask me. But his still smiling face told me I should be asking him what's new. "I'm guessing you have something awfully interesting to say, based on your idiotic smile."

"As a matter of fact I do." The grin on his face became even wider. Something virtually impossible, but for him it was more than possible. "I finally asked Denisse out on a date."

"Did you really?" I asked, still not a hint of interest in my voice.

Denisse was the head secretary here at Hoffman. She was average height, and curvy. She wore glasses, just like about every damn person in this building. When you  hear the word 'lawyer' what do you imagine? A man wearing a black suit, and glasses? A woman wearing a pencil skirt, a black blazer, and.. glasses? Then you'd be right. Everyone here seems to play up to the stereotype.

"Mm-hmm!" He exclaimed. He walked up to my desk, sitting down at one of the chairs at the front. He folded his arms over the table, and leaned forward, as if he needed to keep the following in secret. "I really like her."

"I would have never guessed." I mocked him, leaning forward as well to speak.

He didn't notice still that his crush on the girl was obvious. "I'm just really good at hiding it." He laughed.

"Very. Now, why don't you carry on with your job and you let me do mine?"

"I will, but Just because I have loads of things to deliver. And these packages don't deliver themselves, you know?" He stood up from the chair, adjusting his maroon jumper.

"I bet they don't."

 

He smiled quickly, and exited my office finally. I sighed loudly, picking my pen up again, going back to my usual routine of scribbling meaningless notes onto blank spaces on the paper.

 

 

  _ **Jerry's POV.**_

 

Harry always seemed a distant fellow. But I didn't mind. He was the only one who didn't shoo me away as soon as I stepped through their office door. He's the only one who I can call by their first name. Anyone else, I have to refer by 'Mr.This' or 'Miss That'. He always listens  to me, and he likes me. I'm sure of it.

Stepping through the doors of Mrs.Crowden's office, I was immediately hit by the stench of cigarette smoke. "Mrs.Crowden, I've got your package." I managed to croak out, afraid the odor of the smoke would choke me if I breathed it for long enough. She sat at her desk, her silver hair pulled up into a tight bun at her head. The room was dark, and it had a loneliness to it, even though it was filled with her praised stuffed animals. Gifts from her nephew. Their marble eyes followed you everywhere you went.

"Bring it here, boy." Her voice was raspy, and unwelcoming.

I rushed forward, taking the long file out of my bag. I set it in front of her shaky hands. They were wrinkled to an extreme, and bony. Every vein and artery showed through her thinning skin. Her fingernails were long, and sharpened at the ends. One slash from those, and you were sure to bleed out.

She grasped the package in her skinny hands, and examined the label. I watched her pale blue eyes strain to read the text. She was old, and going blind for sure, even though she always claimed it was the smoke that was clouding her view.

"Mmm.." she paused. "Take it to Styles."

I nodded quickly, wanting to get out of this room as soon as I could. I reached for the package, but she pulled it away from me. Her cloudy eyes flickered up to meet my own. I'm not kidding when I say they could be of a dead fish's.

Her voice came out in a croak. "Not so fast." She set the package down in front of herself, picked up her black, slim pen and wrote something down over the yellow envelope that encased something seemingly boring to her. Her handwriting was neat, something you wouldn't expect from a witch-like lady. "Tell him this case is of the outermost importance."

I nodded, taking the large envelope. Turning around, I shuffled back out of her office and into the fresh air of the building. I blinked quickly, and headed back to Harry's office.

 

_**Harry's POV.** _

 

I sat back in my chair, too tired to keep working. I don't know how I ended up in this place. Working as a lawyer, pretty funny if I may say. People like me, never end up in places such as these. The office I so called mine was large, shelves lining all four walls. Books no one would ever read rested on those shelves, slowly covering in dust, the pages of their insides never to be scanned through.

There was a painting in a little corner. Something the kids from the school down the street had done. I used that spot to chat with my clients. What better than a few sofas, pillows and a warm cup of coffee to get them to spill their stories?

I was never interested in anything they had to say, to be completely honest. I simply took notes, and nodded, adding a few comments here and there. My lack of interst came to be mostly because either they repeated everything I had already read from their file, or all they said was that they were innocent. Most of the time speaking to the actual client was pointless. But as head lawyer at Hoffman, my job must be done.. as Mrs.Crowden' strictly written rules dictate.

I had been appointed as head lawyer just a few weeks ago. Nothing I'm too dreadful for. I get the most interesting cases, the one's that involve criminals, murder.. or simply the ones that no one else can make a good defense for. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. But everything is starting to turn into routine. I needed a change. And a change is what I got. It came in a yellow envelope, with a note written from my boss in black ink, and the words from Mrs.Crowden spoken by Jerry.

"... This case is of the outermost importance."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 A few days had gone by since the arrival of the yellow envelope. Jerry had been stopping by my office, babbling on and on about how excited he was to go on his date with Denisse. It seemed a bit pathetic to me for him to be as joyful as he was, but then again; he'd probably never been on a real date before. Guys like him probably never had a good dating life, but who was I to shut him up? Let the boy be joyful. It may not last long.

I had looked into my client's case and was fully infromed on the matter, and the stories that were given on both sides. Crowden had ordered me to stop all my other cases, and work fully on this new one. Much of my work had been spent reading countless papers, but now it was time to speak to my client: the accused.

I had been appointed to her, since she could not pay for an attorney. Usually clients like these would get the shittiest lawyers out there, but not her. I still didn’t know the reason as to why this case was mine, but I couldn’t protest. Mrs.Crowden had assigned it to me, and I would get the job done; as always.

I looked up from my laptop as I heard knocking at the door. Clearing my throat, and fixing the tie around my neck, I spoke. “Come in.”

Two women walked in. “Mr.Styles.” the blonde greeted. She looked to be in her early twenties, her hair elegantly put into a side pony tail, curled. She wore a white pencil skirt, and a red blouse. The blouse ported ruffles at the chest, and she left the first couple of buttons undone. Trying to get some attention, I assumed. But I was not the kind of man to keep eyes at her cleavage.

“How may I help you?” was the first thing I said.

“I’ve got your client here.”

My eyes wandered over to the smaller girl standing beside her. This one was a brunette. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and her bottom lip was between her teeth, and her hands rested at her groin: fingers interlocked. I couldn’t see much of her, for her face was tilted down. Her hair hung in loose waves, and was parted at the side.

“Come on in.” I was able to say, removing eyes from the girl, and bringing them back to her escort.

“As you already know, Mr.Styles.. This is Ashley Durrell.” the blonde spoke, leading the younger girl over to my desk.

I stood up, and stepped around my desk over to both of them, extending a hand out to Ashley. “Ah, yes.. Miss Durrell.”

_**Ashley’s POV.** _

    I looked up as the man held his hand out. Mr.Styles, as I now knew him, was younger than I had expected him to be. He looked to be only in his mid twenties. His long hair was pulled back, but curled at the sides of his head. Not very lawyer looking if you ask me, except for the fact he wore a black suit that molded around his body perfectly, and a tie. His eyes were narrow and the color of green emeralds, glistening as the light shone upon them. Mesmerizing. His lips were plump, and the color you would expect to find in a cherry flavored lip balm. Might I add, they were perfectly shaped. The way the curves met at the center, making a perfect cupid’s bow.

I blinked quickly, realizing I had stood frozen for longer than normal. “Uh, Hi.. Mr.Styles. I’m Ashley.” I extended my hand out as well, joining it with his. What soft hands this man had. Large and powerful, yet soft and his shake was gentle.

“Lovely to meet you.” his lips pulled up into a soft smile, as he slowly slid his hand away.

I nodded, unable to say a word more. I may have seemed rude to my lawer, but I couldn't help it. My mouth would not open to let me speak, to let me plead to my innocence. But after all, I was a criminal. Or so my accuser said. My mind was racing, letting me view memories of that night. The night I became Ashley Durrell, the criminal. The night where I ceded to be Ashley Durrell, the girl who wouldn't..  _couldn't_ hurt a fly.

“I’ll be right outside, Mr.Styles.. in case you need me.” my escort said.

I watched Mr.Styles’ eyes switch to her. “I’ll be sure to fetch you if anything comes up.” he replied, smiling still.

My escort nodded, and exited the room. Here I was, left alone with a man I had only just met.. to talk about my case. I took in a deep breath, and fought the urge to run, to hide.. to vanish.

 

_**Harry’s POV.** _

 

    As soon as the escort left, I looked back at the girl before me. “Now that she’s gone, let’s talk.” I turned slightly, and pulled open a chair by my desk for her. She was young, which meant ‘the corner’ wouldn’t comfort her any. Ashley nodded, and took a seat. I walked back around my desk, and sat at my spot. Reaching over into a file cabinet, I pulled out hers, and laid it out in front of me. The folder was thick, full of papers inside awaiting to be viewed. I opened it slowly, taking small glances of the fragile looking girl in front of me. Her eyes now met the papers. The grey of them had a sadness, sorrow even. Nothing you would find in a girl as young as she. No trace of joy was in them.

“I understand this may be hard.. Miss Durrell,” I finally looked fully up at her. “But do bare with me, I’ll do my best to make it as easy on you as I can.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, and calm. Surprised by her response a few moment later.

She nodded in response, and her voice was meek. “Thank you, Mr.Styles.”

She spoke a simple 'Thank you'. Someone with an accusation as big as hers would've broken down in tears, began to scream.. but not her.

A silence fell upon the room, as I prepared myself for what I had to say next. “Now tell me, what happened the night of September fifth?”


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Yay! Another chapter. I'm sorry they're so short! Still trying to figure out how many words I need to write to make these chapters longer. But, I'm sure this one will be a least longer than the other two.. I don't know, I'll just have to wait and see! Anyway, thank you for the reads! Truly means a lot to me. Comment if you want me to update. SPREAD THE WORD. I love you.

\- - -

    

    September fifth. The night of my first crime. The night I became London’s Most Wanted. The night my world ended. It had all been a blur, to be honest.. I don’t know what happened that night. Nothing made sense as I knew it. Pieces of what I could remember often flooded my mind, but it was never clear to me as to why I had to sit here and be interrogated by this man.

“Miss Durrell?” Mr. Styles brought me back to the office.

“Pardon me, sir.” I cleared my throat, blinking away the memories.

“You’re fine,” he paused, I could tell he was eyeing me over.. something everyone now did. “You may commence when you please.”

“I..” I tried to speak, I tried to tell him. But I couldn’t. I knew anything that came out of my mouth would make absolutely no sense to him.

I looked up at him, unable to say anything else.. once again.

“I can begin. If you’d like.”

I nodded in response, watching his slender fingers rummage through the papers.

“Here, September fifth. One man, Ben Gorton. Decapitated.”I dreaded his pause. Was I supposed to state my motives for what I had done? “Genitals were removed.”

A shiver shot down my spine, and I found myself holding onto my biceps. Unintentionally, I was acting like a mad person.

“Anything come to mind, Miss Durrell?” he asked, setting the papers down.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I took in a deep breath, trying to remember. The silence dragged on, and I decided it was time to speak.

“I.. can’t remember..” I managed to squeak out. The grip I had on myself was beginning to show. My arms began to grow red, where my fingertips dug into my skin.

“You can’t remember anything at all? No reasons as to why this body was mutilated?” the man spoke calmly, as if he had spoken about things such as these billions of times.

I shook my head no, letting my arms go.

_**Harry’s POV.** _

Her behavior was strange. Scared as I told her snippets of the crime. She couldn’t remember a single thing she had done to that man. Anyone responsible of such a crime would surely know something. But, she truly did seem confused. I looked around the room, trying to find a different way of approaching the topic.

“I do remember something.” she finally said, voice clear.

I looked back at her, raising both my eyebrows. “And that is?”

“I remember.. I remember sitting at a bed.. with a chain-saw in my hands..”

“Was that the tool used for the mutilation?”

“I would guess.. it was covered in blood..”

“Where did you obtain the chain-saw, Miss Durrell?”

“I.. I don’t.. I don’t know.. All I remember was that it was in my hands!” her tone became slightly more agitated, and her eyes showed emotions of fear, and excitement; all mixed together into grey eyes of sorrow.

“Please calm down, ma’am.” I watched her coward into the chair. She was physically here, though her mind was elsewhere. “I’d like for you to take a moment, and think. Tell me anything that pops into your head. After all, I’m here to help you.”

She eased up, I could tell. Her quivering lips parted, and she looked down, but said nothing still. It was time for me to make her comfortable.

“I’m not here to judge you, madam. I want to help.” I continued, then leaned forward, folding arms against the surface of my desk. My eyes searched for hers, but she remained looking down.

After that, silence became part of the room. Her eyes were fixed on her lap, she was thinking. Her soft features complemented her age. Based on her file, she was only twenty-one. She had prominent cheek-bones, with a tint of crimson to them. Her neck was slender, as was she in general. Her hair, was the color of milk chocolate with a few lighter streaks here and there. Her eyebrows were brought closer together, as she frowned.The hair that hung over her chest shown brighter than the rest, as her breathing made it catch the light. Even though she seemed gloomy, something about her caught my attention in general. Her eyelashes. Weird to say, but I found them to catch my eye more. They were perfectly curved upward, and long. It looked as if she wore fake ones, or mascara.. something every woman did here. But no. They had not a single trace of any of those.She wore a black jumper, and denim jeans. Nothing too fancy. Well, what the hell did I expect? She was detained after all. She didn't have the privilages of wearing nice clothing.

“Mr.Styles..” her voice interrupted my observations.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t do it.” her voice was meek once again, and her eyes finally met mine.

For the first time, I didn’t know how to respond. I was silenced. Here I was, used to dealing with the craziest criminals, the one’s who would lash out at you, even if you were here to help them get out of the shit they got themselves into. And now.. I was presented with nothing more than a girl. A girl seemingly incapable of her crimes. Accused for the murder and mutilation of six men.

Something about her seemed off. If the accusations against her were real, there was certainly more to this than I knew of.

She couldn’t have done this alone. No, not she. She was far too small to control those men by herself, surely she had an accomplice. Someone much larger and stronger than herself. But then again, criminal minds are brilliant. Far more intelligent than those of a regular human. Nothing ever seems to pass by them.

 People like Ashley Durrell were always prepared for anything that may come their way. And even if something did go wrong while on their malevolous actions, their minds are quick to act upon the situation. Maybe her cowardly persona is but merely a disguise for what really lies beneath her skin. Mighty interesting character she is, if I may say. I needed to find a way to get her to open up to me, and that’s exactly what I was planning. For her to spill everything. Every gruesome detail about the mutilations.

I stood up from my chair, and walked around my desk to the front. I brought one of my legs to sit down on my desk.

"My name's Harry." I waited until her full attention was on me before I spoke again. "May I call you Ashley?"

She tucked her lips in, as if uncomfortable. But, she nodded. An unsure nod from her, but it was there.

"Tell me, Ashley.. what do you like doing in your free time?"

"I like to.. write.. and, photograph things, then draw them later."

"Interesting. If you don't mind me asking, what do you like to write about?"

"I like to write story books. For kids.. I know it's lame, but.. that's what I do." her shoulders rose up into a shrug.

"I wouldn't say it's lame. The kids surely like stories from a mind as young as yours." I managed a small smile.

She laughed, but more of a sarcastic one. "Sure, a mind like mine.."

"What? I be you're great." I pulled the corners of my mouth up further for a more convincing smile. "But what I am dying to know is about those drawings.."

"What about them?"

"You said you like to photograph things.. and draw them later." I tilted my head slightly to the side. "Are they any good?"

"They're.. decent."

"And by decent you mean..?"

"I don't know what your definition of 'good' is." her fingers made quotes at the word 'good'.

"You're right."

"In fact I am."

My, I was right. She was an iteresting one. Confident when talked to about her interests, yet cowardly when talked to about her case. My plan would work perfectly.

"I'll have to see those one day, I suppose."

"One day, when you're not investigating me." she replied bluntly. 

 

_**Ashley's POV.** _

 

__ Was that a smirk on his face? I'm sure it was. His hand rested at his lap, long, slender fingers tapping against the fabric of his pants over his skin. He isn't like any other lawyer. At least, not like the one's I've seen on the television. 

"That day will come, if you cooperate with me." he spoke again, his lips still forming a smirk.

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know.. motives."

"There were none."

"None?"

"None. Because I didn't do it."

The smirk on his face vanished quickly after my response, and the crease between his eyebrows became more prominent. He wasn't happy with my answers. 

"So, you're telling me.. that you did absolutely nothing to those men?"

"Not a single thing."

"Then how do you explain your finger prints on the body? And the weapon?"

The truth is, that I couldn't. I couldn't explain anything. For not even I knew how those had gotten there. My mind was probably more confused than anyone else's about the case. I couldn't remember anything that happened September fifth. How was it possible, for a whole day to go unnoticed? Like it never happened?

 


End file.
